


all of this is going to work out fine

by apollothyme



Category: Marvel
Genre: First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, M/M, Peter Parker Has a Family, Secret Identity, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:12:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollothyme/pseuds/apollothyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker and Johnny Storm sort of have a thing.</p><p>Actually, scratch that. Johnny doesn't even know Peter.</p><p><i>Spider-Man</i> and Johnny Storm sort of have a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all of this is going to work out fine

**Author's Note:**

> Last week it was sort of (not officially I think) announced that Michael B Jordan will be playing Johnny Storm in the next Fantastic Four movie, so I wrote this fic in honor of that extremely wise decision. Dedicated to the lovely [Krusca](http://creppykrusca.tumblr.com/), who drew me an awesome [](http://iscokroos.tumblr.com/post/64857186248/artingkrusca-for-gi-happy-bday-im-sorry-im-late>Peter/Johnny%20drawing</a>%20for%20my%20birthday.%20%0A%0AThis%20story%20is%20a%20mix%20of%20MCU%20&%20comics%20canon,%20with%20lots%20of%20total%20derailing%20on%20my%20behalf.%20Enjoy%20x)

Peter Parker and Johnny Storm sort of have a thing.

Actually, scratch that. Johnny doesn't even know Peter.

 _Spider-Man_ and Johnny Storm sort of have a thing.

Yeah, that is more correct, and also a thousand times more depressing because Peter might be Spider-Man, and Spider-Man might be Peter, but that doesn't mean Spider-Man, your friendly neighborhood superhero, is Peter, amateur photographer for the Daily Bugle and walking social disaster; the same way it doesn’t mean Peter, science genius and the definition of hard-worker, is Spider-Man, New York’s biggest public menace.

In the technical sense, obviously, this is not true. Peter is the one that puts on the mask and goes out to face whoever has decided to conquer New York this week. But nobody looks at Spider-Man and thinks of him, just like nobody looks at him and thinks of Spider-Man.

It's complicated.

Peter could lie and say he's working on it, but the truth is the thought of coming out as Spider-Man is unthinkable. He has to protect his family first and foremost. One of his identities is already seen as a dangerous pest, no need to make it both of them.

All of this means that, at the end of the day, he and Johnny don't have a thing. They don't flirt every time they see each other, don't have each other's backs in a fight, don't look at each other - Peter behind the mask - like they'd very much like to strip the other of their costume. Spider-Man and Johnny have that.

This is not to say that Peter wouldn't like it if he got to say and do all those things without the mask, because he would, he most definitely would. Peter’s never liked lying, especially not to friends and to whatever it is he and Johnny are. It doesn't have a name, doesn't have much of anything in fact. They just flirt a lot and go on sort-of-dates and say things like, "As soon as this is over I'm going to kiss the living lights out of you," and then never do anything because, well.

Well, Peter doesn't know why, in all honesty. He reckons it might be the mask, it's one of those things that gets in the way, both literally and figuratively. It might also be that there's never enough time before one of them, usually Peter, has to scamper, or maybe it's just because there are always people around after a fight.

Not that any of that matters. Peter and Johnny don't have a thing, and Spider-Man and Johnny only sort of have a thing. Peter would love to fix this, he would, but he's socially incompetent - Gwen's words - and too gay to function - MJ's words - and he just doesn't know how to approach the subject.

What would he even say? 'Hey, Johnny. You know how we've been flirting and going on dates and acting a bit like siamese twins these past few months? Yeah? Okay, cool. So, can we makeout?'

Smooth, Parker. So smooth. And that's one of his best lines, too. His worst just involve him dropping his pants and nervously screaming something like, 'Tongues!' or 'Wanna fuck?'

Gwen is no longer here for him to ask for help and MJ laughs at him, pats him in the head and tells him to just do it whenever he brings up the subject.

In summary, Peter is doomed. He is a masked hero with a crush on an unmasked hero and he is doomed. And socially incompetent. And he's not even sure what he wants, because making out with Johnny would be really nice, but so would waking in the same bed as him every morning, and Peter can't do that unless he reveals his identity.

Doomed. Plain, old doomed and it’s not even Doom’s fault this time.

Luckily, or maybe unluckily, depending on the perspective, Johnny is not like Peter.

What changed, Peter has no clue. Everything still looks the same to him. There are doombots flying over New York City in groups of dozens and Doom is currently on top of an aircraft shaped like his head giving a speech about how he is the future of humanity, which makes it a Tuesday. The Avengers are in Europe dealing with Hydra and the X-Men hate dealing with Doom, which means it's only Spider-Man and the Fantastic Four on scene. A Tuesday, really.

There's been a couple of close shots, but there always is. Spider-Man and the Human Torch are working together and exchanging their usual banter in between destroying robots and shouting witty one-liners.

"Web-Head, have I recently told you how much I hate the color green?" Johnny asks as he flies through five doombots in a row. He shatters them into small pieces of burning metal that rain on the streets of New York like shooting stars.

Peter laughs and follows his tail, destroying three more bots on the way with two well-aimed kicks. "Only last week."

"The colors blue and red though, those are my favorite," Johnny says, humming a little as if he's lost in deep thought before he turns around to look at Peter, and lifts a single eyebrow in appreciation. "Yes, definitely my favorite."

"I'm quite fond of blue myself," Peter shouts, laughter still bubbling in his voice.

He doesn't know if it's something about the mask that helps him speak more easily, or if he's just too busy not dying to worry about what he's saying, but it's easy to flirt when he's wearing the costume in a way that is physically impossible when he's not. The words just slip past his lips before he can over think them or stutter like a nervous, bumbling preteen, which he no longer is, thank you very much. Now the correct wording would be a nervous, bumbling young adult.

And to think just last week Captain America told him heroes like him are the future of America.

Peter is still not over that, and he might have spent ten minutes yelling about it at Johnny, who had laughed at all the right places and let him speak like he genuinely enjoyed listening to Peter’s ramblings. Which. Just. Yeah. Peter has no idea what to make of that. He knows what he wants to make of it, but things are never as simple as to be what Peter wants.

It’s as if to Peter, life is a carton of milk that always goes wrong a day before it should. Peter still drinks it, unaware that the milk has gone bad, and promptly spits it all over himself, ruining his last clean shirt. Since that was his last carton as well, he has to go without milk _again_ , which means he leaves home without eating breakfast and has to spend five dollars on a crappy sandwich he can’t afford because he’s on minimum salary living in New York City. Yes, that’s exactly what life is like to Peter Parker. Spoiled milk and crappy sandwiches.

“Have I ever told you how I’m an amazing philosopher?” Peter asks. He swings down to step on the doombots hovering only a few feet off the ground. Johnny is with him in a few seconds, a hand raised to his comm as he listens to his team’s chatter.

The Fantastic Four had offered Peter a comm, just like the Avengers and even the X-Men had. Peter had told all of them 'no' as politely as he could manage. He trusted them with his life on the field, but he didn’t trust them with the lives of his family and friends, and that meant he couldn’t drag a comm device with a location beeker (they all said it didn’t have it, but Peter wasn’t born yesterday) with him everywhere he went. It’d be nice to know what everyone else is doing during a fight, but it’s nothing Peter can’t live without.

“No, but I’ll love to hear all about it later,” Johnny replies, winking at him. “Reed says he’s got Doom’s aircraft down. Wanna go kick some shiny, metal ass?”

Peter skids to the left as a Doombot flies by dangerously close. He frowns in concentration while he jumps to the right to avoid another one. Little buggers are moving faster than last time, which means Doom is actually improving and learning from his failures. Amazing. Peter knew his head was big, but he thought it was full of thoughts about how wonderful and brilliant he is, not real knowledge.

“You go. I’ll deal with some of the cleanup.”

Johnny’s lips disappear into a thin line for a small beat before he nods and flies away. Peter watches him go and thinks about how ironic it is that he is fighting Doombots made by Dr. Doom while also being completely doomed himself.

If Doom wasn’t already the world’s biggest drama queen, Peter is sure the crown would fit his own head perfectly.

In his defense, it’s all because of Johnny and the way his eyes crinkle when he lets out a real laugh, which is all the time when he’s around Peter, and the way he always knows what to say, and doesn’t think less of Spider-Man regardless of what the tabloids says. His truly amazing body was a very nice bonus. Spandex doesn’t hide a lot, alright? And Johnny has a lot to be proud of. _A lot_.

It’s around this time that one of Doom’s bots sneaks up on Peter and shoots him squarely on the back. Peter falls to the ground, pain shooting up his spine and spreading through his body like fire. His vision goes white around the edges and he can’t hear anything besides his own ragged breathing for a couple of seconds. He has enough presence of mind to shoot a web at the bot, glueing it to the nearest building where it won’t be able to do much damage, before he gives himself the time he needs to pull himself together.

By the time the pain has receded enough to allow him to get up, the rest of the bots are all lying on the floor, most likely deactivated by Reed, and sirens can already be heard in the distance. Peter’s about to leave the scene and head home where he can heal the wounds to his body and ego when someone calls him.

“Spider-Man!”

He turns around and cringes when he sees the look on Johnny’s face. Peter knows he must look like shit, covered in soot and dirt, wearing a ripped costume and most likely burnt and bleeding on his back. He seriously needs a new suit, but the sewing escape can wait until he’s at least showered.

“Flame Brain,” Peter says, already itching to leave. He doesn’t usually stick around after a fight in case one of the Bugle’s reporters is lying around, waiting to take a picture of him so they can distort the story later, or in case the police has changed their minds about him. The few times he stayed around was to exchange a couple of words about what happened, make sure they’re in the clear, maybe get Johnny to smile at him and then he was off.

“Are you ok?” Johnny asks, stepping down and reaching towards Peter carefully. He lays a hand at the bottom of Peter’s back, and Peter lets him, body twisting the opposite way. He keeps his ground so he can look at Johnny and give him space at the same time. “Fuck, sorry, stupid question.”

“It’s okay, I’ve had worse,” Peter replies, going for a light tone and failing badly by the glare Johnny shots at him.

“Wait,” Johnny takes a look around, eyeing the empty street before he grabs Peter’s arm and drags him towards the nearest alley. “Come on.”

“What are you doing?” Peter asks. He should put up some kind of resistance. Spider-Man and Johnny only sort of have a thing and going into empty alleys together is not part of the thing, but Peter can’t find the energy in him to complain.

It’s hard to be constantly pushing good things away because he’s too much of a mess for them, despite the fact that he wants them, with everything in him. And Johnny is a good thing, no matter what anyone might say about him. He’s loud-mouthed and snarky and he smiles like his teeth could cut bones when the paparazzis are annoying him and he’s also one of Peter’s only friends and he’s a good thing, through and through.

“You’re bleeding,” Johnny says, as if Peter doesn’t already know that, as if that’s a valid explanation for why he’s running light fingers along the edges of Peter’s wound, carefully inspecting the skin. Maybe it is.

Peter’s head feels like its floating, and the more Peter tries to focus on what’s happening, the more the thought runs away from him, leaving in a shallow pool of contentment at having Johnny so close Peter can smell his expensive aftershave. It’s ridiculous, no one should be able to smell so good after a fight.

Peter doesn’t realize he’s said so until Johnny chuckles. “Thanks, Web-head.”

Peter can’t tell if he’s imagining it or not, but he swears he can feel Johnny’s breath on the back of his neck, almost too warm, just like the rest of him. Johnny turns him around and takes a step back to look at him, probably checking for more injuries. They’re inside the alleyway, hidden behind a dumpster where no one can see him, and not for the first time Peter thinks about taking off his mask. No one there right now but Johnny. He’d be the only one to see him, and he deserved that, right?

“You’re good. A couple of minor scratches and that nasty burn on your back, but I’ve seen you walk off nastier stuff.”

“Thanks, _doctor_ ,” Peter replies sarcastically, rolling his eyes behind his mask even though he knows Johnny can’t see him do it, thoughts about taking off his mask already scattering away.

It’s about this point that Johnny will say something so flippant Peter will have to leave in fear he’ll get a brain hemorrhage for listening to something so inane - and people think he makes bad jokes - but Johnny just smiles, slow and grounded. It’s a private smile, the kind that has nothing to prove, no one to impress.

Maybe if Peter hadn’t still been weary from the pain, he’d have seen the kiss coming, been ready for it. He didn’t see it though, as if some part of his brain had erased the possibility of kissing Johnny from existence and didn’t recognize what was happening. His spider sense - treacherous thing - didn’t go off, no warning lights flashed, and Peter didn’t even realize they were going to kiss until Johnny was less than a couple of inches away, slowly lifting up Peter’s mask.

At this point, Peter’s survival instinct should have kicked in, and he should have shoved his friend away, but something - possibly shock, exhaustion, or maybe just his subconscious acting up - stops him from moving. He holds his breath without noticing, and doesn’t exhale until Johnny stops pushing up the mask, settling it on top of Peter’s nose. His identity is still hidden, everything is still okay.

Except for the part where he and Johnny are kissing. Again, scratch that. _Spider-Man_ and Johnny are kissing.

Fuckity fuck, this is a new low, even for him. He’s making out with someone who doesn’t even know his real name, and not just any someone, he’s making out with Johnny Storm, who is one of Peter’s two friends. Fuck.

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry, I--” Peter struggles for something to say that isn’t ‘You don’t even know my name,’ because that would sound _bad_ and he’s already messed things up enough.

“Web-Head,” Johnny whines, adding injury to insult, as the corners of his mouth drop.

Seeing Johnny, someone who is usually the definition of happy and boisterous, look so dejected because of him hurts more than the shot to his back had.

Peter can’t do this, and he has proof of that right here, right in front of him. He’s always letting everyone down and screwing up. He can’t drag another person into his life, not as Peter Parker, and certainly not as Spider-Man.

“I’m sorry. I have to go,” Peter says before he throws a line against the nearest wall and pulls himself up. Within seconds he’s swinging away in direction of his home.

Johnny doesn’t follow him. Peter didn’t expect him to. 

— — —

The first thing Peter does when he gets home is call MJ.

He enters through his bedroom window, making as little noise as possible. As far as Aunt May knows, Peter never left the house, and Peter wants to keep it that away.

MJ picks on the second ring, and Peter doesn’t get the chance to say anything before she says, “I’m on my way,” and hangs up on him. A few seconds later, while he’s still staring at his phone wondering what just happened, he gets two texts.

 

> **» i saw you on tv**
> 
> **» you are home, right?**

That explains it then. Peter texts back a quick ‘yes’ and begins to take off his costume in slow, long movements, trying not to stretch the wounded skin on his back so he doesn’t do any more damage. He throws the fabric into a garbage bag before he puts on some pajama pants. His suit is a one piece, which doesn’t sound like so much of a good idea right now, and with the back mostly missing the whole thing is ruined.

He gets his first aid kit from under the cupboard in his bathroom, but when he tries to clean the burn on his back he just strains his shoulder like he knew he would, so he settles for waiting until MJ shows up. Peter didn’t call her _just_ to talk about the whole kissing Johnny thing. He mainly called her for that, true, it’s not like has anyone else he could talk to me, but not just for that.

“What happened?” MJ asks as soon as she takes a look at Peter, sitting on the edge of his bed half-naked and hurt, with his shoulders hunched and his head down, looking at the kit in his hands like it’s the most depressing thing he’s ever seen. She closes the door with one of her feet before she sits down next to Peter and pulls the kit onto her lap.

“Doombot sneaked up on me. Nothing special, it - _ah_ \- looks worse than it is,” Peter says, cringing when he feels the cold, burning touch of the antiseptic on his skin. He tries to edge away from MJ while simultaneously trying to say in the same place, which results in him nearly slipping off his bed and MJ scoffing at him as her nails dig into the skin of his left arm.

“Stay put, idiot. And I meant what’s got you looking like someone just killed your puppy. I figured the burn stuff by myself.”

Peter doesn’t say anything for a few seconds as he rearranges himself into a proper seating position. It’s not often that he stays quiet - in fact, it’s extremely rare that he stays quiet, usually words just trip out of his mouth before he even thinks about them - and MJ notices it, because the next time she speaks it’s softer, her hands a reassuring weight against his naked skin. “Peter?”

If Peter wasn’t as gay as they come, they’d probably be dating by now. He doesn’t deserve someone as amazing as MJ, but she’s never seemed to mind. She figured out his secret all on her own and then she just… stayed, even when Peter tried to push her away for her own safety. She never left.

“Johnny and I kissed. Well, he kissed me, pushed my mask up to my nose and everything, felt like it had come straight out of a romantic movie. If it had been raining it’d have been perfect. Maybe if I was hanging upside down too, add to the ridiculous factor a bit.”

MJ’s hands freeze before she grabs something from the kit and starts bandaging Peter’s back. She wraps his torso in a tight bandage and doesn’t say anything until she realizes Peter is done speaking.

“And what did you do?”

Peter was waiting for the question, but it stills stings as it brings back an onslaught of unpleasant, embarrassing memories. The kiss itself had been nice, more than nice actually, even if Peter hadn’t done anything but stand there and let Johnny kiss him. It was just everything else that made him want to find a shovel and dig himself a hole to hide in.

“Do you want the short version or the long one?” Peter asks, trying to postpone the inevitable. He feels MJ shake her head, her soft hair brushing against his shoulders. “Ok, well, I panicked,” he waits, tries to figure out if there’s anything he can say to make the situation not look as bad, and realizes he’s got nothing. It really is as awful as it seems. “I panicked and I ran away and now he probably hates me. Oh God, when did I become a teenage girl?”

Peter covers his face with both hands and groans, earning him a light slap on the shoulder from MJ. “You’re worse than a teenage girl,” she says, but she doesn’t sound mad, just sad, maybe even a little disappointed. It’s a sign to how much she means to him that her disappointment hurts as much as Aunt May’s does.

“I didn’t know what to do, I just. I want to be with him, but I _can’t_ ,” he says, throwing his hands down in frustration.

“Why not?”

“Because!” Peter shouts, jumping off the bed and pacing around the room as he speaks, “I’m Spider-Man. I’m a public menace. I’m dangerous. I can’t just shove this - all of this - on Johnny, but I can’t be with him as Spider-Man either. It’s wrong and he deserves more, deserves better.”

“Peter, you do realize you’re talking about the Human Torch, don’t you? He’s more than capable of taking care of himself,” MJ says in her you’re-being-an-idiot-but-I-love-you-anyway voice.

“I--” Peter stops pacing around the room, and tries to assimilate what MJ has just said. Of course he knows Johnny is the Human Torch and can take care of himself. He hadn’t really thought about it, no. After all, up until today their thing never seemed serious and Peter isn’t the biggest fan of hopeless wishful thinking. “Yes?”

MJ sighs, but she is smiling a little at him, like he is a confused child who needs to be pushed in the right direction, so the situation isn’t extremely dire.

“You like him, he obviously likes you. He’s a superhero like you, so you don’t need to worry about his safety. He might show up in the tabloids at least once a week, but I’m pretty sure he’d take your secret to the grave.”

When Peter had called MJ, he’d been mostly done freaking out about what happened - or so he lied to himself - and all he wanted was someone to listen and tell him Everything Is Going To Be Okay. This is not the talk he was expecting, and what with the pain and the kissing and Johnny pulling up his mask, everything is kind of hard to process right now.

“So, what you’re saying is…?” Peter goes with, because he thinks MJ is telling him to be with Johnny and that is just. That’s really great, actually, but also kind of overwhelming.

“I’m saying you should go talk to him. I’m saying you should go kiss him back, tell him your name and trust him with this. He deserves this, but more importantly, you deserve this. Stop telling yourself otherwise,” MJ goes to Peter’s closet and takes out one of his spare Spider-Man costumes he has hidden in the back, putting it down on his hands gently. “I’m saying you’re a wonderful, kind person. I’m saying you’re a hero, and that you deserve to kiss Johnny Storm, alright?”

Peter’s brain shuts down at some point there - genuine compliments always throw him in for a loop - but he’s still able to notice the part where MJ is telling him to go talk to Johnny, and that he deserves this. Something in his mind clicks at hearing those words and a green light goes off, telling him that yeah, alright, maybe she’s right, maybe he does deserve this, maybe he should at least try to find out.

“Thank you,” he says, flustered and confused, but also happy because MJ is the best friend he’ll ever have and Johnny kissed him and maybe, just maybe, things aren’t that bad.

“You own me at least two foot massages,” she replies, grinning at him before leaning him to kiss him in the cheek.

He puts on his costume once he’s a few blocks away from his house, and then he’s swinging away, feeling the wind beat against his clothed face and wishing he could feel it beat against his skin. The lights of New York shine beneath him and all around him. Sometimes, when he’s going fast enough, they’re nothing but a blur of color to him. It’s like travelling through limbo.

Tonight, Peter pays them no mind. His thoughts go back and forth between the kiss - Johnny’s hand resting on his neck, his eyes half-closed and the way he smiled the whole time, soft and sweet, so unlike the Johnny most people got to see - and possible future kisses they might share. If Peter hasn’t messed up everything that is.

If he could cross his fingers right now, he would. As it is, he just settles for picturing crossed fingers as hard as he can.

He gets to the Baxter Building before he’s even aware of it, and then he’s knocking on Johnny’s window, unable to see anything inside because the reflected surface. He probably looks like an absolute tit, crouching sideways on the glass, basically intruding Johnny’s home and hoping that by some lucky chance of fate Johnny doesn’t hate him and will open the window for him. And what if he doesn’t? What if Peter really messed up everything for good? What if--

“You can come inside now,” Johnny says from the window next to Peter.

Had he been there for long? Peter hadn’t even seen him. Johnny pushes the window further open and then goes back inside. He doesn’t look angry, but he doesn’t look the least bit happy either. Shit, shit, shit.

Peter slips inside quietly, closing the glass window behind him so he can lean back against it. Johnny is just standing there, on the other side of the room, with his arms crossed and looking at some point above Peter’s head.

“So, I wanted to apologize,” Peter says, biting down on his tongue to stop himself from babbling. It feels like the right thing to say, quiet and normal, but maybe he’s got it wrong because Johnny just shakes his head at him, like MJ had, only he doesn’t look half as fond as she did.

“You shouldn’t be. I kissed you and pulled up your mask with permission. If anything, I should be the one apologizing to you,” he says, meeting Peter’s eyes for a fraction of a second before he looks away, “and I am sorry, but not for that. Guess that kind of makes me a shitty person.”

A few seconds pass before Peter asks, “What?” because he’s not following, at all.

“I’m not sorry for not asking for your permission, because I know you would have said ‘no’ if I had, okay?” Johnny asks, voice just a little lower than a shout before he quiets down. “And I am sorry about that. It’s just... I thought we had something.”

Johnny’s laughs is one of the most bitter, most self-deprecating laughs Peter’s ever heard, and Peter should know. He’s practically the patent owner of self-deprecating laughs.

It hurts like hell to hear it and know he’s the cause for it, and it makes him realize that Johnny is now part of a restricted group of people who Peter doesn’t want to ever disappoint. If he thought his thing for Johnny, was just that, a simple thing, light and innocent, he certainly don’t think that now.

“We do,” he rushes to say, taking two steps forward as he stumbles over his words, “I panicked, before, I didn’t know you were going to do that and then you pushed my mask up--”

“I know, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have--”

“But I shouldn’t have ran away,” Peter finishes. He takes a deep breath and then adds, more quietly. “I didn’t want to.”

Johnny looks surprised, with his hands frozen in the air in front of him and his eyebrows trying to crawl to his hairline, before he breaks out a huge grin.

“Oh?” he asks, and there’s the Johnny Storm everyone knows and loves. His tone is teasing and so very fun, like all he loves speaking like this with Peter, like he wants to do it. “So, you’re not going to run away now if I do this?”

Johnny reaches for Peter’s mask for the second time that day, but this time Peter sees it coming and he's ready for it. The following kiss is not a surprise either, but it still makes him go weak at the knees. The first kiss had been good, but now that Peter is actively participating in it, things have gone off the scale. Well, Peter’s scale anyway.

Johnny is an amazing kisser, something Peter already knew from countless reports on the tabloids which he didn’t read, ever, just heard about from MJ. He takes his time between dropping open mouthed kisses and bites on Peter’s lips and exploring Peter’s mouth. What starts as a light, sweet kiss turns into how-come-you’re-still-wearing-clothes in less than five seconds. It might be a new record. Peter isn’t really paying attention to the details.

“I’ve never made out with a guy wearing a mask before,” Johnny says, between a pause for air. It’s meant to be a joke, but it makes Peter cringe and remember the second reason why he came here tonight.

He pushes Johnny away, just a gentle hand on his chest, and says, “and you won’t.”

Before Johnny gets the chance to misunderstand him - who knew communicating properly was so difficult - and before he can over think this, Peter grabs the edge of his mask, where the fabric meets the rest of his suit, and pulls it off.

“My name is Peter Parker. I’m a photographer for the Daily Bugle, huge fan of Community and Parks and Rec. I like to sing in the shower. I can’t cook worth shit and I haven’t gone to college, but I think I’d like to, one day,” Peter says, and keeps speaking as Johnny’s smile keeps getting wider. “Only one other person knows about my secret identity, MJ, she’s my best friend, you’ll love her. And you can’t tell about this to anyone, please. I need to keep my family safe.”

“I won’t. I promise,” Johnny says, not hesitating for a second.

Peter believes him, because Johnny Storm might be many things, but he’s not a liar, nor does he go around spilling everyone’s secrets left and right. Peter trusts him with his life practically every week when they’re on the streets, fighting side by side. He trusts him enough to flirt with him and not worry about what he might think or say to anyone else. He trusts him to be there to catch him if he falls. He can trust him with this too.

“Thanks,” he says, leaning forward to kiss Johnny again and dropping the mask on the floor.

The kiss turns into a making out sessions, which quickly turns into a groping session, which would probably have turned into sex if they could find the brain capacity needed to take off their costumes.

“By the way, you’re hot, like really hot, like wow-I-can’t-believe-you’re-hiding-that-under-a-mask hot,” Johnny says.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Peter replies, laughing into the kiss, pleased with how easy this is. He runs his hands over Johnny’s shoulders in search for a zipper or a button or anything to get Johnny’s stupid suit off. He maybe, possibly, will deny it later if asked about it, fist pumps when he finally finds a line he can pull that makes the upper part of the costume fall on the floor in one smooth motion.

“Like what you see?” Johnny’s smug grin is practically pornographic. Peter would feel embarrassed if he didn’t have Johnny standing right in front of him, half naked and along for the ride and fucking gorgeous.

“I think being fire is my new favorite superpower,” Peter says. He runs a hand down Johnny’s muscled chest. He’s blushing, but the words are still easy to say. Maybe he doesn’t need the mask after all. Maybe it wasn’t about the mask in the first place, but who he flirted with.

“Oh, you did not just say that. That is so corny, Peter Parker,” Johnny says, rolling the name in his tongue as if he’s tasting it, seeing how it feels coming out of his mouth. From the way he smiles, Peter takes it that he likes it.

“I did, and you _liked_ it,” Peter says, unable to stop himself from smiling like a fool in love, which, alright, is what he is.

Johnny laughs and shakes his head, fond look in his eyes. He drops his head to smile at the floor before he looks up with one eyebrow lifted and a smirk in place. “Maybe. What are you going to do about it?”

“I can tell you, but I’d much rather show it.”

Yeah, he can definitely flirt without the mask. He can do a hell of a lot without the mask, even more without the rest of his costume, and it’s about time he does it.


End file.
